#mamabirds

It's funny that this picture would pop up for me around Mother's Day. I schedule posts for Five Lens Photography way in advance and this is one I just scheduled. So I was inspired to write about it. But first, let me explain what's going on here. The bird on the left is a Song Sparrow. The bird on the right is a Brown-Headed Cowbird. Brown-Headed Cowbirds typically lay their eggs in other bird's nests. The moms never make a nest for their babies, instead opting out of that part of parenthood and leaving it up to someone else. A lot of people hate Brown-Headed Cowbirds for this reason. But she takes a lot of time picking out a suitable foster mom for her baby. Some birds notice the BHC egg right away and knock it out of their nest or build another nest on top of it. But this Song Sparrow took this baby under her wing. She's feeding this baby that is obviously not hers and she doesn't have to do that. Look at the picture, like really look at it. It's beautiful especially after you know the backstory.

Sometimes motherhood is nontraditional. I really think it's important for people to not only acknowledge this but to also accept it. It's not fair to assume that only women who have been pregnant and given birth are considered mothers. It's not always the case. I remember seeing a debate about whether or not women who gave birth via C-section are "real" mothers, like vaginal birth is the one and only way. Excuse me? Both ways are terrifying and risky for both mother and baby. If this is what it's come down to, like this is what we're fighting about then I guess there is no hope for someone like me.

I knew at a young age that I wouldn't be a mother, at least not in the traditional sense. My stepmom was pregnant with my youngest brother when I was 15 and she told me the realities of what some women go through while pregnant. I also remember my senior year in high school in anatomy class where our teacher told us in excruciating detail what happens to a woman's body when her water breaks. I had decided then and there, or so I thought. I told my own mother that I wasn't going to have any children. My mother, who had me at age 37, was ready for grandbabies. She probably would've had them if my oldest brother hadn't died. We'll never know.

My mother was one of the people telling me I would change my mind about kids. I would want them someday (spoiler alert: she was right). She told me childbirth is the most forgettable pain. She told me the reason women are here is to bring more children into the world. I was appalled. I was like "wait a minute, what about me?" What. About. Me. At the time, I thought I knew what I wanted: a demanding career with lots of opportunities for travel. I really did.

Fast forward. At age 19, I fell in love. I thought we wanted the same things. I wanted a child badly for the first time ever. I knew I would be a good mom. For the first time, I wanted to be a stay at home mom. I can't explain to you why I felt this way. I think apart of it was loneliness. At this point in my life, I didn't want to be seen. I just wanted to be at home; I didn't want to go out. I figured if I had a little one to take care of, there would be less opportunities to go out. I am thankful everyday I did not get pregnant at this time because there is no way I was ready to take care of a child.

My early 20s, I got married. I wasn't on any form of birth control and I never had been and honestly, it's a miracle I never did get pregnant. I was open to the idea of child. I had a big pregnancy scare in the early stages of dating my ex-husband. I was scared, deeply afraid but eventually I grew comfortable with the idea. I counted the weeks and found that my baby would be due in March. It would be a March baby, like me. I did copious amounts of research about pregnancy and I still carry some of this knowledge. I felt like maybe the baby was a boy. We had names picked out. I was sure. Then one day, all the symptoms disappeared just as quickly as they came. I never went to a doctor to find out but I believe what happened to me was an early miscarriage, a super early miscarriage. I was devastated.

If I'm being completely honest, this was a blessing in disguise. If that baby had come to be, they would be six years old. Just finishing kindergarten. I cannot imagine what that would be like. I ended up with a man who has two daughters and his youngest will be six soon. If my baby had come to be, we would had two kids potty training around the same time. We would have had two kids going through their "terrible twos" and "treacherous threes" together. Sometimes I do let myself entertain the idea that I had this baby...and what our lives would look like. It's hectic and crazy.

So, no. No kids came out of this body and if I can help it, none will. I have a huge list of reasons why and I'm not explaining myself. Do I know what it's like to carry a child? No. Honestly, a dream of mine is to carry a child for someone else. I know what it's like to help raise a child. I do it all the time. I have bottle fed, potty trained, comforted, cooked, sang, danced, taught, celebrated, anything you can think of that a mother would do, I've done it, except the biological stuff. What I don't know is what it's like to carry one. And I know there are so many people out there who wish they could.

One time I wrote that Mother's Day is the day that I realize with startling clarity that I am a parental figure until I'm not. I am a parental figure until Mother's Day and then I am not. I have people ask about my stepdaughters all the time but do they wish me Happy Mother's Day? No. There are people who treat me as a parental figure, admonishing the girls that they should listen to me, but do they wish me Happy Mother's Day? No. Within the confines of my home, I am a parent. I am not called "mom" or "mommy" or any variation and I wouldn't allow it anyway. I just wanted to be an adult they felt safe around. They consider me a stepmom and it's known. It's celebrated. I love it. But it hurts when there are people who know our day-to-day lives and still don't consider me worthy of a simple Happy Mother's Day. It hurts to know I spend way more time with the girls than they do and yet I'm nothing but a girlfriend, an accessory.